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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038981">New family</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/philemonarthur/pseuds/philemonarthur'>philemonarthur</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Far Cry 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bunker Ending (Far Cry), F/M, Handcuffs, Manipulation, Mentioned Dutch - Freeform, Mentioned Faith Seed, Mentioned Jacob Seed, Mentioned John Seed, Minor Character Death, Vaginal Fingering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:40:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038981</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/philemonarthur/pseuds/philemonarthur</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What follwed Joseph's monolouge in the bunker, and the start of the deputy's change into to the judge.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>New family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is not incestual, just creepy names and roles.</p><p>My mistakes are my own.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She didn’t know what contributed to the crushing presence of claustrophobia more; Joseph Seed’s heavy gaze pinned on her, companied by a satisfied smile; the smell from Dutch’s dead body pressing down her nose and laying as a thich film on her tongue, or the nearly boiling heat from the nuclear bomb that went off a meer hour ago. During his monolouge right after she woke up handcuffed to the bedframe, all her focus had been on him. Now, after he had finished talking, her current environment and situation was sinking in. Her gaze fell to her hands, avoiding both alive and dead male presence. She didn’t want to look at Dutch because the pending grief was a catalyst to the breakdown waiting to happen. She didn’t want to look at Joseph because it was honestly panic-inducing, and right now she needed to keep a somewhat clear head. Her legs were starting to ache, her hands were shaking, her breaths were heavy and coming faster and faster, and her mind was racing. She needed to keep the walls from closing in, she longed for fresh air, she wanted to use her legs and pace, but what also held a high priority in her mind, was the desire to change clothes. More accurately, she wanted her uniform, the one that signaled that all of Hope county fell under her jurisdiction. One could also assume that the sliver authority the uniform implied also could help grounding her. Joseph’s intense eyes made her feel so small, and regardless of how nervous she had been the day they walked into his church to arrest him, she at least had had her colleagues both backing her up and ordering her on what to do. That had been people she respected, and guidance she trusted. Joseph’s picture of authority made her skin crawl. She didn’t want to listen to him, but if push came to shove, she had an inkling he would push hader than her. Hold her down maybe, cut obedience into her (<i>no, he wasn’t John<i>).</i></i></p><p>
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</p><p>She wanted to throw up.</p><p>While breathing almost uncontrollably and uncharacteristically heavy, letting her mind and rapid thoughts run free, and keeping her gaze pinned on her hands, Joseph had rised to his feet. She saw his feet move, and she instantly raised her eyes back up to meet his face. He made her feel so small. Sure, she had felt small and insignificant when the reaping had begun and they were cut off from the outer world, but now, down in the bunker, sitting on the hard and cold floor with him looming over her, she felt no bigger than an ant. So easily crushed.</p><p>Never before had he been more terrifying.</p><p>He remained standing, not crouching down in front of her like before. «Now, deputy,» he announced, and she flinched at his words. «There are cetain rules we need to establish, both for our time here toghether, and in our new life in Eden. You are under my care now, my child.» He was still smiling at her, and though it still held a twinge of self satisfaction, it was softer now. She wanted nothing more than to tell him, that if he wanted information to stick to her brain, he would have to wait a few minutes (<i>hoursdaysmonths</i>), because right now she was tip-toing the edge of a cliff, and she was heavily flirting with the idea of falling right down into the sweet arms of an emotional breakdown – accompanied by a long grieving period dedicated to her friends, her home, and what the world had come to. The only reply she gave him was the contiuned eye contact, and the closing of her mouth and long intake of air thourgh her nose, in an attempt to get her breathing under control. Like he had said, she was all he had left, and she was his family now. Hopefully, he wouldn’t hurt her.</p><p>She wasn’t naive. She knew pain came in many forms; physically, emotionally, sexually (<i>god no, please no, please don’t, not that, dont let it come to that, no no no</i>). And regardless of how much her legs, wrist, behind – her whole body, really; they had been fighting right before the bomb hit and in addition to a shitty situation, the graze from a bullet was starting to announce its’ presence on her arm - ached, the stress from the past few weeks followed by the immensely taxing awakening, was starting to make her brain hurt. Her eye twitched. He saw it and his smile widened.</p><p>«My child, you are bleeding,» he said. She could learn to answer to «child,» even though it was creepy as hell. John’s drawling «deputy» came naturally enough. He never asked her her name, none of them had. To them, she was a snake, a saboteur, a pain in the ass, an obstacle, somone who had to be stopped, deputy, child, <i>pup</i>. Her identity was tightly tied to her role in the resistance. Hence, why she really, <i>really </i> missed her uniform. If he ever let her out of the cuffs, she would pray to whatever god out there still listening that Dutch hadn’t made good on his promise on burning her uniform. </p><p>He still hadn’t broken their eye contact. She had done it once already, so it didn’t cost her much doing it again. Looking down on her arm, she replied with a voice that had not been in use other than for grunting and screaming the last weeks: «So I am.» Which was immediately followed by a dry cough. That drew her attention to her throath, and the fact that she was, on top of everything else, dying (<i>not rellay, figuratively</i>) for a sip of water. He didn’t acknowledge the fact that this was the first words she ever spoke to him, just cocked his head to the side and turned back to the table where the radio rested. She dared not give way to any small disappointment coursing through her chest, but she had hoped for a reaction of some kind, given the time and energy the cult had spent hunting her down. It all must’ve been good for something, some sence of importance.</p><p>She drew a quick breath and bore her eyes back onto his form. She could not believe that some part of her, however small, craved his attention. She remembered the tingle in her stomach whenever a radio call came in for either of the siblings, how proud (<i>laugh it up, Joe</i>) it made her feel, because it ment that the resistance she strived for, had an impact. Thier calls made her almost giddy, and no matter how much they threatened her to get her to ease up on her attacks and just give herself over already, she almost always welcomed them with a grin adorning her mouth. However, she didn’t need nor wanted his approval. She scolded herself, and she could feel her cheeks getting warm. He turned back to her at her small gasp, still with that damn smile on his face. «I will mend that for you. I allways take care of family.»</p><p>He had a first aid kit in his hand, which he placed on the floor next to the bed she was cuffed to. To her suprise, he pulled out a set of keyes (<i>her keyes</i>), and grabbed both her wrists in an iron grip with his other hand, before he unlocked the cuffs. Partially holding her breath, she wanted to pull her hands away from his and retract into the wall behind her, but he tightened his grip on her as if he could read her mind. He got up on his feet and slowly pulled her up after her wrists as well. She made sure he pulled most of her weight by not helping with her legs, despite the pain pulsing through her wrists. Yes, she was that petty. The hand that held her keyes was placed on her back, and he led her to lie down on the bed, face staring up at the celing. Her hands were cuffed back against the bed frame, her arms stretched out over her head.</p><p>The graze was on her upper arm, and with her arms up she could lick it if she wanted to. But to get to her graze, her shirt had to be removed. Or, the sleeve, at least. Either he would save her modesty and cut the sleeve off, but ruin one of the few clothes avaliable down in the bunker, or he would drag her whole shirt over her head and down her arms, saving the article of clothing but bathe her in self induced shame. When he made the choice, it was to her demise, the latter. When he pulled her shirt over her head and left it bunched up close to her hands, she could feel his eyes on her torso. More specifically her cheast. Maybe he was admiring his brother’s work, reading the squiggly and aggressive word splayed over one of her breasts. She had become wrath once upon a time, alright, when she shot John between the eyes. </p><p>Or maybe even the holiest of men was still just a man. Even in a sweaty, well-worn and almost ratty sports-bra, she was well endowed. She didn’t want to look at him, but she could feel his breath on her face, his own too close to hers. He made quick work of the graze, a burning disinfection, ten neat stitches, and a tight but soft bandage wrapped around her arm later, he finally leaned back on his knees and away from her face. She had calmed down, and even with all the pressing questions she had regarding their future in the bunker, she wanted to sleep. Well, most of all she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t let go with him still smiling at her. So she waited, closed her eyes, and hoped her mind woud soon drift off. He hadn’t pulled her shirt back down yet.</p><p>Her eyes flew open again when a warm and firm hand landed on her stomach.</p><p>He had leaned closer again, his mouth almost touching her ear, talking with a low, slow voice, almost whispering. «My dear child, sleep will come later. I want to give you something, something i haven’t given to anyone in many years. Like I said, you are the only family I have left. And even with all the pain you have caused, I can see that you are hurting.» His hand started to inch closer to the waistband of the pants she had stolen from some outpost somewhere in the county, and her breath hitched. She opened her mouth to protest, to stop him in doing exactly the one thing she feared most from him, other than death. Almost nothing came out, only the smallest no. She was at his mercy, and her body knew it. Fear raked through her, and she almost couldn’t breathe. «Just give in, dear,» he coaxed as his hand dipped underneath the waistband and his fingers drew over her still dry folds, thumb nudging her clit, making her legs jerk. His fingers continued to stroke her untill her body produced some moisture, and then he pressed one finger inside her. «There we go,» he murmured when she let out her first shaky moan. She could feel her chest and face heat up and she tried to twist away fom him (<i>into him</i>), but he started to lick her ear and she fell still, just feeling his touch against her. Her stomach in the tightest knot, from anxiety and fear (<i>and anticipated pleasure</i>), her breaths short and heavy in one monent, and completely still in the next.</p><p>He pressed another finger into her, and she clenched around him. «That’s it,» he said between licks and soft bites on her ear lobe. Pressing a third finger into her, he halted his movements and kept his fingers still inside her, only moving his thumb in circles over her clit. At the same time he moved his attention down to her neck, still licking and nibbling. «John marked your body, Jacob your mind, and Faith your blood. Now it’s my turn to mark your soul.» Her only protest was a chocked up «wha-» before he started sucking on her neck, marking her with hickeys for all the wrong reasons. This wasn’t love, this was possession. She was shaking, her cunt full of his fingers, her nose full of his scent, and the attention on her neck stealing her composure away. Her core tightened, and an intense orgasm  rolled over her, dragging a long moan out from her throat.</p><p>He was still stroking her slowly, and her legs twitched with him. SHe couldn’t settle, feeling sensitive, wondering if he was going to do something further, take his assault to the next level. He kissed her cheeck, and his eyes caught her eyes once more. «My dear, dear deputy. You are my only family as of right now, but soon we well start our work of repopulation. My child, you will be their mother, as I am their father. We will all walk into Eden, and the new world will all be worth our hard work.» His fingers were still inside her, and when he curled them, she let out a sharp gasp. He kissed her neck again, licking over a sore hickey. «It seems you are ready for one more. You can rest later,» he said, and started to move his fingers again.</p><p>She stared at the ceiling, her mouth hanging open, her fists clenched, holding onto her shirt, and endured. She really, really wanted to cry.</p>
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